


The Messenger

by Ekatarinabeisel76



Series: A Bad Joke [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekatarinabeisel76/pseuds/Ekatarinabeisel76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I should have known this guy was spewing BS when he said ‘evil only exists because of fear’!” Richie ground out as he grasped his sword tightly in his hand. He clung to his beer mug with his other hand, and began to recount to his friends all of the lovely details of his little adventure. </p>
<p>The events of the episode entitled 'The Messenger' with a little original plot twist on the side at the end, to kick off the sequel called 'Thick as Thieves'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I started this chapter 1 hour away from Christmas Day, and I had a lot of problems getting it off the ground. I wasn’t sure where to start, and I apologize if my struggle to write this chapter shows through. I think the root of the trouble was figuring out where Haresh and Carter could fit into the episode. 
> 
> Sadly, this is the last chapter of the story. However, there will be a sequel, and in fact, it’s already written. Remember, I did originally introduce this fic as a prequel to another, so for those of you who enjoy this – don’t worry. It’s not over.
> 
> That being said, I hope the small number of you reading this enjoy it!

Carter tapped his foot impatiently against the kitchen floor. His arms were folded over his chest, and his eternally young feature bore a supremely crossed expression. He couldn’t start dinner without milk, and that was what he had sent Richie out for at seven o’clock at night to get, as well as some basil tomatoes, fresh pesto, and potatoes. Still, he felt that his lover should have returned by now. He was about to pick up the phone and call Richie to ask where he was and what on God’s green earth was taking him so long, when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to answer – Richie had gone out on his bloody motorcycle.

Then he felt the buzz from outside the front door of their apartment, and turned around sharply to face the redhead walking through it. Cross words had been poised to take off on the tip of his tongue, but they fled when Carter saw Richie’s eyes.

They were crystalline cerulean blue, and they were positively alight. Carter could feel the energy rolling off his lover in waves as he carried in the groceries began unloading them on the counter.

“Where have you been?” Carter demanded. “I was worried!” he added.

“I met this immortal on the way back-“ Carter instantly understood.

“And he challenged you.” He finished for the younger immortal as he took out a pot to boil pasta in and a sauce pan.

“No.” Richie explained. 

“No?” Carter asked him, very confused. “If he didn’t challenge than what on earth did he want?” he asked.

“He went on about peace between immortals and laying down your swords, and at first I thought he was insane.” Richie paused.

“But?” Carter prompted him as he began chopping up the tomatoes.

“But then he left and I started thinking about what all that would mean. Can you imagine actually enjoying your immortality – no fighting, no taking heads, no challenges?”

“It would be Utopia, and you know that Utopia only exists in theory, don’t you love?” Carter asked him.

“Yeah, but what about Haresh and Darius? They retired from the game and never took another head in their lives. Why can’t we?”

“Because for all of us to live in piece, we would all have to be satisfied with the power have, and never disagree with each other, and that’s just not possible. There might not be   
that many of us statistically Love, but we’ll never agree, and there’s more than one power-hungry head hunter out there.” Carter argued. Richie sighed, and he felt all of his excitement rush out of his in a mass exodus. 

“I know, but I just wanted to believe…”

“That we could stop killing?” Carter asked him. Richie nodded. “You can; you can retire from the game, but only from the challenging part of it. I’m sorry to say this Love, but that   
is as close to peace as any of us will ever get.” He placed a kiss on Richie’s lips as he poured raw spaghetti into the now boiling pot of water.

“Maybe you’re right.” Richie said, and he wrapped his arms around the slightly taller blonde immortal.

“Of course I am.” Carter answered cheekily. “Now be a dear and get the pesto out for me, would you?”

Richie did so, and watched Carter busily cook dinner for just the two of them. Haresh had to meet with his publisher on the new book, which was already set to print after only one round of revisions. Haresh was beside himself with excitement and satisfaction at another multi-million dollar contract to be signed, and had boarded the earliest flight to New York.

“Did this mystery immortal give you his name by any chance?” Carter asked him as he stirred the pesto into the sauce pan.

“Yeah, he said his name was Methos.” Carter turned arouns, stunned.

“As in the world’s oldest immortal?” Richie nodded.

“Why the sudden change in face?” the redhead demanded as he watched his lover’s expression shift dramatically.

“I’m not saying I buy all this crock about peace among immortals, mind you, but if he’s really Methos, and he’s really survived all these thousands of years, maybe there’s a thing or two learn from him…” Richie let a childish grin break out over his features at hearing those words.

“Is that your way of telling me that you think I should go meet him where he told me to tomorrow?”

“Just a suggestion…” Carter said innocently, with a sly wink of his right eye. Richie returned the blonde’s smirk, and leaned in for a kiss.

It wasn’t like he’d had plans or anyway, except for meeting Mac at the dock. Then Richie reconsidered – Maybe Mac would like to meet the guy.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“I should have known this guy was spewing BS when he said ‘evil only exists because of fear’!” Richie ground out as he grasped his sword tightly in his hand. He clung to his beer mug with his other hand, and began to recount to his friends all of the lovely details of his little adventure. 

-/-/-/-/-/- Begin Flashback -/-/-/-/-/-

So the day hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to. It had started with him saving William Culbraith’s life, and then he’d gone to talk to Mac at the Dojo. He had left Mac thoroughly annoyed, and then Mac, Joe, and Adam had pulled him into Joe’s for a very interesting little conversation.

Turned out, Adam Pierson, the watcher researcher in charge of finding Methos, was, in fact, Methos. And if that wasn’t trippy enough, he’d gone to talk to Fake Methos, and had gotten his ass handed to him by the old guy. After that Richie thought he’d have a little chat with Mac, and then he’d come back to see Methos a few hours later to find him missing his head; fucking brilliant. 

It was at that moment that Richie wanted to kick himself for obeying Fake Methos’ order to give up his sword. Here he was, no sword and in the presence of an obviously quickening-hungry immortal. He gave himself one more point on the board; he was winning in Stupidity and second place to Fake Methos in Naivety. 

Then he found Culbraith, sitting in one of the large outdoor chairs overlooking the tranquil and extensive Garden, smiling smugly and clutching his blood-stained confederate saber. He’d been challenged, and he didn’t have his damn rapier. Richie tried to channel his inner Amanda at first, but he failed to talk his way out of the fight. After that proved an utter failure, he tried dodging the attacks thrown at him so hurriedly by the other immortal. That worked until one wild slash cut through his abdominal muscle.

After that, all he could see was Mac, standing on the hill in his big black coat, looking like a dark angel. He had Richie’s sword in his hand.  
“The battle’s been joined, you can’t interfere!” Culbraith had called to him.

“Wouldn’t think of it.” was the Highlander’s reply as he tossed the sword a few feet away from both of them.  
Richie dove for all he was worth, wrenching the large gash across his stomach open even further as he did so. He didn’t care though. He felt the familiar, comforting weight of his rapier in his hand, and he rose to his knees and lunged forward with it. He caught Culbraith in the stomach, and the man sneered at him with anger and hate in pouring through his eyes and mouth and breath. 

“Is this the part where I beg for mercy, or where you say we don’t have to do this?” he demanded.

“Neither!” Richie answered him, his voice a snarl.

He delivered a deep slash to the former officer’s abdomen, and then brought his sword up to strike the final blow. He heard Culbraith’s head roll to the ground, and then felt his quickening seeping into him from all sides.

-/-/-/-/-/- End Flashback-/-/-/-/-/-

Now here he was, sitting at Joe’s around a table with Mac, Carter, and Joe. The wound to his stomach still hadn’t healed all the way, due in part to the fact that he hadn’t died from it and it was very, very deep; they healed faster when they were dead. Richie pretended that beer helped to, as he was on his third one of the night.

“Look at it this way Love – you’re not as naïve as him at least, seeing as your still alive.” Carter comforted him with a lilting laugh carried in his voice.

“That ain’t saying very much.” Joe argued, but he was laughing too.

“Thanks for saving my life…again.” Richie said to Mac, who nodded to him in acknowledgment.

“No problem Rich, but I just want to point out that if you hadn’t stopped me this morning, you wouldn’t be in this state.” He raised his hands in a ‘don’t shoot me’ sort of way, and   
waited for the round of fresh laughter to clear up.

“Not to break up the festivities,” Haresh interrupted. “But, where is Methos?” he asked the other men sitting around the table, not focusing the question to any one of them in particular.

“He’s with Alexa.” Joe replied. “She’s out of remission.”

Everyone’s expressions darkened. It was so easy for them to forget the mortality of those around them. Joe didn’t say another word on the subject, but his eyes were infinitely darker than anyone else’s, and his lips never folded back into his signature wide smile. In fact, his eyes took a peculiar focus on the napkin dispenser, and the reflection of his friends that he saw in it. Then, roughly thirty minutes before everyone left, his mouth set into a firm line, as if he had reached some very important and difficult decision.

As soon as all of his guests had left after bidding him a warm good night the knot in his stomach constricted. Yes, he had to do something. He assumed that his nervousness was from the fact that he wasn’t planning on doing anything, and that bothered him. He had been taken into Methos’s confidence, and now he had made up his mind to betray it.  
But what choice did he have?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The sound of the phone ringing shattered the peace Richie and Carter had found in their dreams. Richie rushed to answer his cellphone, and after interpreting the lethal glare he was receiving from Carter, he pressed the speakerphone button.

“You got Richie and Carter, go.” He answered the phone blearily, trying to focus on the bright light emanating from the device through the dark of their bedroom and the sleep clouding his eyes.

“Hey guys, its Joe. I’m sorry to call at such an ungodly hour-“

“I’ll say, it’s four in the morning Joe!” Richie interrupted him. Carter elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“I know, but it’s urgent! I couldn’t say anything before, in front of Mac, but it’s about Methos and Alexa.”

“What’s the matter?” Carter asked, his voice laden with worry for the young mortal girl. He had only met her briefly, but she’d made quite an impression with her charming smile and bright eyes. He also had a great deal of respect for anyone who could strike and ancient immortal speechless, not to mention could turn a great cynic like Methos into a flirt.

“I told you she was out of remission, but what I didn’t say was that she’s not going through chemo again.”

“Radiation then?” Carter guessed.

“No, she just can’t do it after the last time. She doesn’t have it in her.” Joes explained sadly.

“So what? She’s just gonna give up?” Richie asked, with about a thimble-full of anger tingeing his words.

“It’s a painful process, and Methos has already tried to assemble Methuselah’s stone, but he damn near lost his cover as Adam Pierson getting it.”

“So, he’s trying to find another way to heal her, or make her immortal?” Richie guessed, feeling a little sheepish for the assumption he had made.

“No; he’s not gonna come out and ask for the kind if help he needs to pull something like this off, but I’ll damn well do it for him. If he loses Alexa, we’ll lose him.” Joe said firmly.

“What exactly are we trying to pull off?” Carter asked.

“Actually, I mainly need Richie. You might actually hinder this operation, I’m sorry to say.” And Carter dropped it, because he could tell from Joe’s voice that he was sincere in his apology.

“Alright,” Richie asked, sitting up in bed. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ve got one of my best watchers researching hat kind of artifact we need. When she’s found it, I’ve already got the names for the team that’ll need to steal it.”

“I see how it is then,” Richie answer jokingly, “I’m guessing we’re not talking banks or antique stores either?”

“No, we’re talking a museum, for sure. The team is all immortal and pre-immortal, including this researcher. I’ve known her for a while, and come to think of it, so does Methos.”

“When is this going down?” Carter asked.

“Soon – we don’t have a whole lot of time as it is. You’ll get the call as soon she tells me what we’re looking for.”

“Alright then. Now, can we go back to sleep?” Richie asked him.

“Yeah, but don’t get comfortable.” Joe said, before he hung up the phone.

He felt a little bit better; but the knot had changed more in substance than in size. He had omitted a lot of information for his conversation with Richie and Carter; like whom else   
he was involving, or who the researcher was, or that he knew way more about Richie’s past than he had ever let on.

He finished his glass of whiskey, pouring it down his throat in one swift and smooth gesture perfected over fifty-plus years of drinking his sorrows away and drowning the ones that dared to stay in even more alcohol. His eyes slid to the notepad nestled in his palm and the names he had scrawled on the topmost piece of paper.

Richard H. Ryan  
Amanda Darieux  
Brenda Wyatt  
Cory Raines  
Neil K. Ryan  
Shane D. Ryan  
Kleopatra A. Grace  
Flynn L. Ryan


End file.
